


Birthday

by twofrontteethstillcrooked



Series: Les Mis snippetfic [12]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental pumpkins, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, UST, snippetfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 02:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12997497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofrontteethstillcrooked/pseuds/twofrontteethstillcrooked
Summary: "Fear not, good comrade, I have no other cares or concerns in the world at present but to be here when our friends arrive, to greet them with joy, to imbibe with all haste and eat cake in celebration of the birth of our dear Joly."Or, a very small moment at the start of something.





	Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> For [goshemily.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goshemily/pseuds/goshemily)

_**early October** _

A warmer coat, Grantaire thought. That's what I should have worn. 

The breeze had a crackle to it, like the snap of a branch in a bonfire. I should build a bonfire, he thought, looking up into the maple trees at the edge of Enjolras's lawn. But these trees were well kept, nothing scraggly about them. They had been pruned appropriately and their leaves were only beginning to consider turning a color other than green. 

Two wild rabbits hopped over to the blanket on the ground to sniff at Enjolras. In somewhat baffling manner they hopped away only when Enjolras waved his hand to shoo off a ladybug, but to Grantaire's eyes it was as though Enjolras had commanded the hares off to their duties, and they were glad to be of service.

"Grantaire," Enjolras began. He was concentrating on the paperwork that surrounded him. "I apologize for still being in the middle of work. You arrived earlier than I'd anticipated."

"Fear not, good comrade, I have no other cares or concerns in the world at present but to be here when our friends arrive, to greet them with joy, to imbibe with all haste and eat cake in celebration of the birth of our dear Joly."

The breeze seemed to cease, abruptly; a blue jay squawked and was silenced. Enjolras looked up, his expression unreadable, his pen paused mid-air like a baton or wand. Grantaire, too, watching him, held his breath, though his teeth chattered just the briefest amount. He was not cold at all, he admitted to himself. He was nervous and had no idea why.

Enjolras exhaled. "There's a phone ringing somewhere."

"Do you have bat ears?" Grantaire asked, before he could think better of it. He knew for a fact Enjolras did not own any phone that could generally be referred to as portable, and besides, they were forty feet from the back door. 

"What's that in your pocket?"

"A dirty euphemism, most likely." 

But Grantaire did reach down and retrieve his own smartphone. Bossuet was calling, as evidenced by the bass line to 'Got to Give It Up' now thumping in Grantaire's hand. He punched the speaker button to answer.

"We're all running very late," Bossuet said without preamble. "There were mice and a tractor trailer overturned."

"Those two things aren't related, except in the ways they are," Prouvaire said, "because the universe is full of mystery."

"Okay," Grantaire said. "Do you have a estimate on timing?"

"No," Bossuet sounded miserable. There was honking on his end, though from geese or traffic or geese in traffic Grantaire could not tell. "Joly's supposed to be with Bahorel and Courfeyrac, but we can't raise them, and I don't know where Combeferre is--"

"He's picking up Feuilly," Enjolras said loudly.

"Well, if they're all taking the same road, then they're probably stuck somewhere behind us. Or in front of us," Bossuet said.

"Or hovering above us," Prouvaire said, in such a tone it almost felt reasonable to think one or more of the gang might drop out of the sky at any moment.

"Anything we can do to help?" Grantaire asked.

"Feuilly has the decorations, because I'm sure they expected to be there by now," Bossuet said. "If you could just, um, check into that, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course," Grantaire said, shrugging at Enjolras. "We'll figure something out."

"Aaaaaugh," Bossuet said, and then there was a loud crunching noise right before he disconnected.

"He'll call back if someone's died," Enjolras said, as Grantaire frowned at the phone.

"Of course," Grantaire repeated. 

"I have a tablecloth," Enjolras offered. "And some cloth napkins." He seemed to think this constituted full scale merriment.

Grantaire wanted to get out from under Enjolras's-- Well, it wasn't a gaze, per se, but at any rate his looking at Grantaire, because it was making Grantaire's teeth chatter again. "I hear your sunflowers have done well this season. A few in a vase perhaps."

He trotted over to the garage, behind which the sunflowers tended to grow, and noticed a great deal of vine thickly sprawled on the other side of the fading sunflowers. In the middle of the scrum sat a giant orange orb. He heaved it off the ground, broke its tether, and carried it as though it were a squirming toddler over to the blanket. He knelt to plonk it down with effort and had the most surreal feeling of bestowing it upon Enjolras, like a lowly farmer gifting a lord a harvest offering.

He was 99.9% certain Enjolras would loathe that analogy.

"You grew a pumpkin," Grantaire accused.

"I did not mean to," Enjolras said, tapping the gourd lightly as though it might grow a face and bite off his fingers. Then he looked over at Grantaire and the most extraordinary smile graced his mouth, lit up his eyes. "It's a really nice pumpkin, if I do say so myself."

Grantaire found himself smiling back and desiring a keg of beer in roughly equal measure. But he could be gracious. "It is," he agreed. "A marvelous volunteer."

"We are always in need of those," Enjolras said, his smile smaller now, but softer, and his gaze -- yes, that's absolutely what it is, Grantaire thought, swallowing -- sure.

Grantaire did not feel nervous anymore. He did feel -- uh. But also. Well. He meant to say something: a pithy retort, a deflection, a declaration of undying affection; but then Bahorel's car horn sounded in the drive.

"Do we think there's a cake in there somewhere?" Enjolras asked, as more people than seemed possible to fit in the little vehicle started pouring forth from it.

Joly beamed across the yard and waved. 

"Let's hope," Grantaire said. He stood up and held out his hand.

Enjolras took it, and Grantaire helped him to his feet.

"Time to greet our guests," Enjolras said. He squeezed Grantaire's hand, and did not let go.


End file.
